Put Some Love Into It
by spyder-m
Summary: When her sister spoke fondly of the coffee sold by a shop in Yongen, Makoto felt compelled to try it. AU Written for Day 5 of Shumako Week 2020: Coffee/Cooking/Dinner Date.


Put Some Love Into It

Makoto wasn't entirely sure what had brought her to the coffee shop in Yongen-jaya. The cafe had been out of her way, the complete opposite direction from both her apartment and the University campus.

It seemed like a lot of effort to go to for something she could have just as easily bought from a vending machine, or one of the many chain stores dotted around the city.

Yet, hearing her older sister speak so fondly of the store's coffee had piqued her interest.

Sae was a perfectionist. For the coffee to have left such a good impression on her, it must have been of the highest quality.

Seeing as she rarely stopped by their apartment, perhaps Makoto had also hoped they might run into each other there.

Leblanc was tucked away in a narrow alley, boasting its own hustle and bustle unique from the sprawling metropolis. There were smatterings of children, families and pets, moving about between the local businesses.

Bells chimed as Makoto stepped through the front door, her body enveloped by warmth and the permeating scent of cigarettes and the store's many roasts.

It drew her eyes to the shelf lined with a variety of beans and spices. Makoto considered herself quite capable in the culinary department, yet she never realised there were so many different blends of coffee to choose from.

The range was rather overwhelming.

"Oh, welcome."

A middle-aged man stooping over the counter set down his newspaper to greet her. He stood beside a contraption made of numerous bulbs and clasps, appearing more like something out of a laboratory than any machine she'd seen in cafes.

"What can I get for you?"

"I- I'm not quite sure." Makoto answered, eyes drawn to the menu board. "There certainly is a lot to choose from."

"A newbie, huh?" The owner chuckled, before turning and setting to work. "Hold on. I can make you something I think you'll enjoy."

Hesitant, the strap of Makoto's bag slipped from her shoulder as she seated herself at the counter.

A black cat sauntered down the stairs with a stretch of its limbs and a long, deep meow, sniffing at her feet, curious. Makoto eyed the animal. For many businesses, its mere presence would be an obvious health violation.

Did Leblanc also double as a cat cafe?

"Here you are." The man called, Makoto's focus shifting back the countertop as a steaming cup was placed before her.

"Oh, thank you."

Coffee was something Makoto had developed a taste for in high school; the caffeine helping her concentrate during long study sessions. While, over the years, she'd found a tolerance for the bitter nectar, it was never really something she savoured or choose to drink for any purpose other than necessity.

She was, by no means, a connoisseur.

Yet, the care shown to this particular blend was apparent to her from the moment it settled on her tongue. No sooner had the first sip of rich, brown liquid trickled down her throat, that Makoto was struck by a realisation.

She had never truly drunk coffee before.

The city was crowded by people all in a hurry, rushing to make a train or their next meeting. They needed their coffee prepared as quickly as possible, the margin for quality wasn't quite as high.

Yet, in this shop, tucked away from the rush and demand, the owner had been afforded the time and luxury necessary to capture a roasts potential. Customers would wait patiently, sitting, engaged in relaxed conversation; almost an entirely different culture that Makoto had not been privy to.

Nursing her drink, Makoto began mentally mapping out alternate routes she could take to class; wondering if she could feasibly pass Leblanc on her way to University.

She would definitely be coming again.

.

The cafe provided a safe haven for Makoto when mid-terms rolled around.

Even having stayed at the top of her year and been entrenched in regular study sessions for as long as she could remember, the academic demands of University still gave Makoto challenge.

She was now competing against some of the best performing students from across the country, many of whom; like her; had scored the highest grades in elite prep schools. Makoto still held the coveted, number one spot but was having to work harder than she ever had before to maintain it.

Though normally favouring the library to study, Makoto had opted to avoid heading there for today. The facilities were packed out at this time of year, with students all trying desperately to fit in a last-minute binge of the term's curriculum, praying that the information would stick.

Finding a place to sit would be a nightmare.

The ambience of Leblanc, however, would allow her the concentration necessary for one last refresher of notes for her next exam. As well as a much-needed shot of caffeine.

"Oh. Welcome."

The unfamiliar voice startled Makoto, drawing her to a person behind the counter she did not recognise. Dressed casually in a button-down shirt and jeans; he peered towards her, his dark, shaggy head masked by glasses.

He was young, much closer to her in age than Sakura-san; or any of the café's regular clientele, for that matter. Seeming out of place amidst the shop's rather rustic decor.

Makoto wondered, momentarily, if she had mistakenly stepped through the wrong door, the evening having coated the streets in darkness.

Yet her eyes carried over the familiar canisters of beans and spices, suddenly enveloping her again in that eerie, nervous energy she had felt before. This sense of being out of place that Makoto thought she had managed to dispel. As though, in this stranger's presence, the safe haven she had sought was slowly slipping away, an alien replica forming in its place.

"H- hello," she ventured after a moment. "Is- Is Boss around?"

The man behind the counter shock his head, black waves of hair rustling slightly with the movement.

"He had to step out for a moment. Left me in charge to run the store."

"Oh."

While the, she presumed, barista seemed pleasant enough, any further thought of conversation was stifled by Makoto's struggle placing the young man before her.

From the apron, and his position behind the counter, it was obvious he was working here. Yet, Makoto found this confusing. She had thought Sakura-san ran a one-man operation. Leblanc didn't seem like it did the business to afford, or even warrant, other employees.

Still, no other possible explanation could come to her. The only family Boss had mentioned to her had been a daughter, so this couldn't have been relative of his.

As she usually stopped by in the morning, it made sense that she wouldn't have seen him, until now.

Conscious suddenly that she had been standing, silently pondering, for several seconds; the part-timer still watching her expectantly; Makoto flushed.

"W- well, in that case. May I have a cup of Jamaican Blue?"

It was the first blend Boss had made for her. In a way, the aroma and flavour that had forged her connection to the Cafe and Boss. Perhaps retracing that palette would remind her of the comfort this room had brought her, making her feel home in her own skin and extending an olive branch to the stranger before her.

Blossoming perhaps a similarly fruitful relationship.

"Sure thing," the barista saluted. "I can't promise my coffee will be as good as Boss', but I am learning."

Though she wouldn't dare admit it aloud, his words held true. His coffee was not as refined as Boss'. Still, it was familiar in its care, in the depth of its flavour profile. As she sipped from the cup with a contented sigh, it was clear to Makoto that he had followed the man's instructions closely and would bud into a fine protégé.

"So, what brings you here tonight?" The barista asked her between sips.

Normally such a conversation might bother Makoto, particularly when she had plans to study, but the man's easy smile and soothing timbre were welcome. Setting down her cup, she replied.

"I'm in the middle of exams at Tokyo University. I was hoping to get some last-minute revision in and needed the kick."

"Tokyo, huh? Isn't this kind out of your way? Or do you live around here?"

"No, I don't. But the coffee is worth it. It's ruined me for anything else in the city."

"Really?" He chuckled. "Perhaps I could teach you then? That way you don't have to keep coming here."

Makoto smiled softly at the man's quip, but in all honesty she enjoyed coming here. Despite the laborious trips and extra train fare, sitting and savouring each finely prepared roast made it worthwhile. The store had a different atmosphere from anywhere else in the city.

"Oh, no. I couldn't trouble you. I don't have the equipment at home anyway."

She could only imagine how much she would need to save to be able to afford a proper coffee siphon like that. Nor where she could source beans the quality that Sakura-san used.

"Oh yeah, that's a problem." The part-timer nodded, scratching his head. "Still, it couldn't hurt to try."

Makoto's fingers stroked against her chin, weighing the temptation in her mind.

Though she had more pressing obligations, she couldn't deny her curiosity. She had watched Sakura-san prepare coffee many times and still hadn't been able to wrap her head around everything it involved.

"Are you sure it's okay?"

"Why not?" The barista shrugged. "It's pretty much dead here, anyway."

Her books and plans to study momentarily forgotten, Makoto set her bag down; slipping on the apron that was handed to her in its place.

He led her meticulously through the process. Measuring out and grinding the coffee, using timers and thermometers to make sure everything was precise. Even breaking things down slowly, Makoto was a little overwhelmed.

To think that Sakura-san and his apprentice had to recall such an involved recipe off hand, all to make a single cup of coffee.

It was no wonder why they were of such quality. The love and effort that was devoted to each blend could not be substituted.

His tutoring was disrupted by bells tinkered as the front door opened. Heart catching in her throat, Makoto turned as Sakura-san took her in; apron and all; with a look of bewilderment.

"Niijima-san? What are you doing here?" His employee waved from beside her with a sheepish grin "And you?

As Makoto attempted to stammer out an explanation, Sakura-san's eyes narrowed at the space between, a mischievous, knowing glimmer crossing his features.

"Oh. I'm sorry," He said, voice suddenly devoid of any confusion. "I didn't realise you had company."

"Boss, I-" Makoto's head bowed, apprehensive to meet his gaze.

"Please, don't leave on my account. This old man'll get out of your hair. Just make sure you lock up, kid."

Though she wasn't looking directly towards him, from her periphery, she could've sworn she caught Boss winking behind the counter, in their direction.

Puzzled, she glanced over at the man beside her who shrugged, a breathless laugh trailing from his lips.

It struck her as odd that the part-timer didn't seem at all concerned about being caught by Boss in such a manner.

"I'm sorry. I hope you aren't in any trouble."

"Eh, don't worry about it." His hand waved, non-plussed. "I doubt he's gonna fire me flirting with a customer. If anything, he's probably pleased."

"Y- you were flirting with me?"

"Well, I guess it wasn't the most conventional method, but..." He blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's what I was going for"

"Oh. I- I see."

Though she hadn't thought anything of it, in hindsight, it seemed a rather strange offer to make out of the blue. From the way they had been standing close to one another, his hands helping to guide her through each step. Now that he had clarified, it seemed obvious.

Shrinking in on herself from embarrassment, Makoto struggled to peel her gaze from the floor. The chain of events she had just endured leaving her mortified.

"It's uh... It's getting late. I might take this to go, if that's alright."

"Oh. Sure."

Makoto wasn't even sure if Leblanc offered take-away drinks, typically, but the barista nonetheless retrieved a Styrofoam cup from behind the counter. Hands dipping into his pocket, he fished out a black marker and began to scrawl something on the side of the cup, pausing briefly to glance up at her.

"You know, I never caught your name."

"Huh? Oh, it's Niijima. Niijima Makoto."

Makoto frowned, wondering what reason he could possibly need her name for. She was the only one in the store, there wouldn't be any need for him to call it out.

"I'm Amamiya Ren." He replied as he set the cup back down and began pouring out her coffee. "Pleased to meet you, Niijima-san. Seeing as you're a regular here, I guess I'll see you around?"

"Yeah."

Ren was careful to turn the cup away as he handed it over, shielding whatever he'd written from view. Bursting with curiosity, Makoto held off the urge to turn it around until she'd made it outside, beyond the reach of his gaze.

She was surprised to find printed there carefully was not her name but a series of digits – his number, presumably.

Rolling her eyes, a fond smile lifted Makoto's expression as she took another sip; the rich taste seeping tantalisingly between her lips.

She would definitely be coming back.


End file.
